


Crossfire

by stardropdream



Category: Blood-C
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For just one moment, his thoughts change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossfire

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ October 30, 2011.

  
For one brief moment, he thinks that maybe there’s more to it than just acting. That maybe there is something he’s not acknowledging, that maybe when he reaches out to touch her cheek, it isn’t just because it’s in the script. For one brief moment, when he reaches out and touches her arm, or her hand, or her shoulder, the shock that pulses up his spine isn’t one of fear but rather of exhilaration.   
  
There’s something thrilling about the way she turns her eyes to him. There’s something almost reassuring in knowing that she’s smiling at him and only him in that moment, and that while they all march to rehearsed orders, she is perfectly and completely unscripted in her actions.   
  
He knows she’s dangerous, knows that it’s all an act and the game will all come to an end, eventually—  
  
(and he’ll finally have the money he needs, finally have the money he craves)  
  
—but until then, there’s something almost gentle in the way she tilts her head to the side when she talks to him. And for a brief moment, he knows the bashfulness showing on his face isn’t just an act, that he can feel the blush rising up his neck and settling on his cheeks.   
  
But before it can settle into a pleasant thought— _maybe she is pretty, maybe she is kind, maybe I do li_ —he thinks, unsettling, that she must be more than aware of the movement of blood, even more acutely aware of its movement than even he is.  
  
And he recoils.   
  
Reminds himself that, no, there is only one human here and these human thoughts (easy enough to folly, easy enough to misinterpret) belonged only to him. Never to her. She may be unscripted, may be unaware of the elaborate play around her, but she herself is just a puppet—rehearsing the lines she is told to say, deep in her gut, only losing control when the unwitting hunger overcomes her.   
  
She’s a freak.   
  
That’s all.


End file.
